


Kello

by ArchangelUnmei



Series: Six Points [3]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Domestic, Fluff, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-10
Updated: 2011-04-10
Packaged: 2017-10-17 20:50:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/181057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArchangelUnmei/pseuds/ArchangelUnmei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A day in the life of Tino Väinämöinen and Berwald Oxenstierna can be a little boring, but they like it just the way it is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kello

**Author's Note:**

> Part of the _Six Points_ series, but can easily be read on its own.
> 
> Schyler 'Skye' de Vries - Netherlands  
> Nikolaj Kristensen - Denmark  
> Eirik Svendsen - Norway  
> Val Magnusson - Iceland

There's a series of brick row houses over on 8th Street that've mostly been converted into shops. One of them, in particular, has been a clock shop for the last several years, hand painted sign swinging above the doorway. It says, in elegant script, _Kello_ , with a carving of a clock beside it for those not fluent in Finnish.

The first floor is taken up by the main shop, with its long glass counter used as a display case for wrist watches and pocket watches and some of the smaller, ornate clocks. The walls are lined in cuckoo clocks and wall clocks and even a few free standing grandfather clocks.

Most of them are new, and wooden, hand carved and built by the shop's somewhat terrifying owner, Mr. Berwald. He'll take in repair work and sometimes pawn clocks and watches too, though his only regulation is that they all be solid, old fashioned clockwork mechanisms, nothing electronic or digital.

More often than not the front display room also contains Mr. Tino, a chipper young man who's Mr. Berwald's partner and minds the shop for him when not in class. He's studying to be a veterinarian, Mr. Tino will tell you. He's much more friendly and approachable than Mr. Berwald, not nearly so serious (nor nearly so _tall_ ).

Behind the glass counter is the door back to the workshop, where Mr. Berwald spends most of his time, carving intricate clock faces or winding springs. There's stacks of bins back there, full of sorted clockwork parts. In the winter, there's usually a tarp on the floor, to catch the wood shavings as Mr. Berwald carves. In summer he'll just sit on the back steps instead, and there'll be a pile of wood shavings in the alley behind the shop.

The workroom also has the staircase that leads up to the second floor apartment.

The apartment mainly consist of two rooms, one of which is a bedroom and the other which has been converted into a kitchen, as well as a small bathroom.

The bedroom is cluttered but not dirty, filled with the detrius of two young men living closely in a small space. The bed is large, wooden and IKEA. (Tino had stared at it for a good ten minutes when it first arrived, wondering if this was an odd manifestation of Berwald's sense of humor.) The sheets are satin, because both of them like the way satin feels against their skin. He may not be one for expressing himself verbally, but Berwald is incredibly touch-sensitive. They share one large chest of drawers wedged into the corner, and the tiny closet is mostly relegated to Berwald's stained work shirts.

The desk in the opposite corner is Tino's. His school books and notes are piled in the corner, but the desktop is currently taken over by a small flock of wooden birds. Carved by Berwald's friend Skye and waiting for Tino to paint them, they are destined for eventual lives in the half-built cuckoo clocks downstairs.

The kitchen is in the north-east corner of the building and gets beautiful morning light. Neither of them is a very amazing cook, but Tino loves being able to drink their coffee in the open, cheery kitchen. Most of the cooking done there involves the microwave, so the kitchen is always pretty clean.

This is how a typical day goes.

Both of them are morning people, and up with the sun. Tino goes to shower while Berwald makes the coffee. Then Tino starts breakfast while Berwald takes his turn in the bathroom, customarily just eggs and toast. By the time Berwald's done, breakfast is on the table and Tino is waiting to hand Berwald his coffee (no cream, one sugar, blue and gold mug).

Berwald smiles, and leans down to kiss Tino good morning.

(People who don't know him think Berwald is gruff and stern. Tino knows that's not true. He can read Berwald better than anyone else, he can see the way Berwald smiles with his eyes and hands.)

Tino talks about whatever comes to mind over breakfast; tests he has, projects coming up, strategy for the next hockey match. Berwald listens, drinking his coffee and occasionally nodding.

Outsiders might be surprised that they speak mostly Swedish at home, but to Tino it just seems logical. He knows languages aren't Berwald's strong suit, and it strains him to have to speak English all day, especially to customers he doesn't know. Tino's been speaking Swedish since well before he started learning English, thanks to a Swedish grandfather on one side. So he doesn't mind at all speaking mostly Swedish with Berwald, especially when they're alone. He sees it as only fair, since Berwald spent all of high school in Helsinki being forced to speak in awkward (shy) Finnish.

Sometimes, they don't speak at all, because they don't have to. Silence between them is comfortable, in that warm kitchen, morning sun glinting off Berwald's glasses and hands brushing wrists and hips just because they can.

Tino's out of the house by eight, five days a week, bag slung over his shoulder as he walks the fifteen minutes to campus for classes. Berwald usually stays upstairs another few minutes, cleaning up the kitchen, then he goes downstairs to open the shop.

His day usually passes relatively peacefully, mostly sitting in the back room carving and assembling clocks. Occasionally a customer will come in, forcing Berwald out of his comforting workshop and into the front room to deal with them. (Berwald doesn't really _serve_ customers, he's not a people person. The regular customers know that if they want _service_ they should come at a time when Tino's sure to be the one minding the counter.)

Three or four days a week, and always on Thursday since that's his day off, Schyler de Vries will coast up the back alley on his bicycle and park it to come inside. He's one of the few people allowed to use the shop's practically-sacred back door.

(The only others all belong to the hockey team, because Kello is close to the rink and half the time either pre-game strategy sessions or post-game parties end up taking place at the shop. Matthew Williams, their centre forward; Eirik Svendsen and Val Magnusson, their usual left and right wing forwards respectively; Eduard von Bock, their other defenceman besides Berwald; and Berwald's cousin Nikolaj Kristensen actually has a key to the door, which none of the others do. Tino says it's in case something happens, Berwald still thinks Nik must have stolen it when he wasn't paying attention.)

Skye usually brings lunch with him, which is better then usual when Berwald wanders upstairs to make a sandwich and get more coffee. They'll sit at the workshop bench to eat, or if the weather is bearable, out on the back step so Skye can smoke his pipe at the same time. The two have been friends since the first week Tino and Berwald arrived in England. Tino had gone to orient himself with the university campus, and Berwald, feeling rather lost, had wandered into the Galloping Rabbit Pub. Skye had been minding the bar, taken one look at Berwald, and slid him a shot of vodka on the house.

Theirs is a friendship forged mostly in silence, wood and smoke. Berwald doesn't like talking, and Skye doesn't mind the silence, or doesn't mind doing all the talking himself when there is something to be said, rattling off into incomprehensible Dutch sometimes since Berwald isn't really listening anyway. They'd really hit it off the first time Skye came to Kello and saw that Berwald was a carpenter. Skye carves wood as well, though mostly much smaller things; pipes ("Tobacco only," he'd say with a wink, which is hilarious if you know what the back room of the Rabbit is _for_ ), small statues and wooden flowers, and the birds for Berwald's cuckoo clocks and sometimes the fancy trim for them too.

Tino usually comes home around two or three, depending on the day. On the off chance that Skye is still sitting around with Berwald whittling and smoking he'll be greeted with a hug and then a light smack and an admonishment to stop smoking. ("It's not tobacco!" is Skye's usual protest, though usually it is. Usually.) But most of the time Skye leaves right after lunch to go take his evening shift at the Rabbit.

A kiss for Berwald, and then Tino goes upstairs to put his bag down and sometimes change clothes, depending on whether or not he's had to trudge home through traditional English damp. Then he's back downstairs with an armful of birds to sit behind the counter and paint, occasionally calling a comment or question back to Berwald and easily interpreting his grunts or short, halting answers.

Business usually picks up in the evenings (since customers know Tino will be there with a smile waiting rather than a terrifying frozen glare) and Berwald does his best to lurk out of sight and let Tino handle things. Once seven o'clock hits and the shop is closed, Tino locks up and then patters back to the workshop to turn off the lights before following Berwald, who's usually already retreated upstairs.

Dinner proceeds much as breakfast does, idle chatter from Tino, the kitchen lit from within now and shining out into the dark skies.

Some nights when Berwald gets up to put the dishes in the sink, Tino can't help but stand up too and lean against his back, feeling strong shoulders and the hardness of his shoulder blades and his _warmth_. He'll stay there, hands curled against Berwald's shirt and leaning into him, listening to the splash and clink as Berwald washes the dishes. And Tino has to smile, because he'd never imagined in high school, hiding under the bleachers to try and avoid Berwald's gaze, that in less than seven years they'd end up living together in a tiny flat in London. But now, with Berwald's body heat against his cheek and chest and palms, Tino can't imagine he'd ever want life any other way.

That thought stirs something in him, familiar affection and undying love, a desire to always, always be just like this, here with Berwald.

"Are you happy?" It slips out before Tino can stop it, and he bites his lip, fingers curling tighter and bunching Berwald's shirt into wrinkles along his spine. He feels Berwald go still, hands still in the soapy water, and wishes he could take it back. They'd moved to London because _Tino_ wanted to, because he'd wanted this school, and Berwald had come with him without a word of protest. But Tino always worries, that Berwald does too much for his sake and not enough for his own, that maybe Berwald isn't happy here, not as happy as Tino.

A moment later, Berwald turns, leaning his hips back against the edge of the sink and wrapping his arms around his smaller companion. Tino stiffens for a moment in surprise, then snuggles into his broad chest and closes his eyes, ignoring the suds from Berwald's hands soaking the back of his shirt.

"'Course 'm happy," Berwald says softly, and in Finnish. "'m 'lways happy wit' you."

Tino's heart gives a great heavy _thud_ of relief, and he laughs a little at how silly he was. Berwald might not be a great conversationalist, but he always lets you know when he's not happy with something (especially if you're Nik).

Berwald tilts his face up, two fingers under his chin, and Tino's only too happy, _more_ than happy, to kiss and let himself be kissed, then break away and grab Berwald by the sleeve, tugging him toward the bedroom. Berwald barely has time to reach out a hand and flick off the kitchen light on their way out.

The next morning, the two of them will get up and stand side by side, hips and thighs pressed together as they finish washing the dishes that have been left orphaned in the sink all night. But right now, Tino presses Berwald down on the satin sheets (blue like Berwald's eyes, Tino'd picked them for that specifically) and is happy just to kiss and touch and let Berwald's hands slide up his back.

Tomorrow will be just like today. Next week probably will be too. Next year might be a little different, the years beyond that even more so. They haven't really discussed what they'll do after Tino graduates; if they'll stay in the UK or go back to Finland or move to Sweden to be closer to Berwald's family. They haven't discussed it, because they don't really need to.

Tino feels a little ridiculous now for having to _ask_ if Berwald is happy, usually he's better at paying attention than that. Because he can see, so easily, in the way that Berwald's nose wrinkles when Tino steals his glasses to set them safely aside, in the way his eyebrows tilt when Tino licks at a nipple, in the way his lips twitch and his teeth click together when he comes. But mostly, it's the way they fall asleep, tangled together with each other and the sheets, Berwald's breathing deep and even and _content_.

So long as they have each other, right here, like this, they'll both be happy.

**Author's Note:**

> If it wasn't quite clear, Tino's the hockey team's goalie. Also, Ivan is their manager. Yes, you should be a little scared.
> 
> Kello is the Finnish word for 'clock'. Yes, Tino is creative at naming things.


End file.
